And now, for the big reveal....
...I did, indeed, graduate from High School with Miss America 2001, Angela Baraquio.
...I also taught an aerobics class and broke my finger.
...The tanning bed story is, sadly, true. Because I grew up in HAWAII and had no use for a tanning bed because we had the SUN in FEBRUARY.
...Mike and I did see "Mullholland Drive" at the Ritz in St. Louis, and Bob Costas happened to be the only other person in there.
...and lastly, while I WILL go into details of this in a post next week, the Wu Tang Clan did visit the Guess? Store I was working in (summer of 1997) with a real boom box and I was, in fact, sung to by ODB. I have an autograph on an actual Guess? bag to prove it, but it's in...the POD. I sort of forgot this story, because it feels like it happened 23 lifetimes ago, before I boarded the Starship Enterprise to live in the vacuum of space, but you know what? It is more hilarious through the lens of time, for sure.
So now you know--
The story of me missing my first sorority formal is FALSE. Sort of. Because, while I did indeed consume a bottle of Boone's wine before I proceeded to pass out in a bathroom, I had a few things working in my favor: 1.) The buses were running late that evening, giving me some unexpected time to sober up, and 2.) My date ran next door to Burger King and I woke up to the sound of him pounding on the door because he bought me a Whopper, which served as a great sponge for all of that Boone's wine (gag). I did have to BEG our social chair to be allowed on the bus, but would PROUDLY like to state that I was NOT the one who threw up on it (person(s) to remain nameless). And sadly, I was in fact wearing a GIGANTIC heart choker with rhinestones, which became SO LEGENDARY that it was referenced and named "The Heart of the Ocean" TWO YEARS LATER when Titanic was released in 1996. Also, I had this really big love for Celine Dion; I was a hot, hot mess between 1994 through 1997 and while I DID NOT miss my first formal, sadly (and shaaaaaamefully), most of the other details are true.
I would like it noted that I was NOT a drinker in high school. But one time, at a sleepover, someone brought Boone's. Fast forward to fall semester of my freshman year, when my new best friends who were randomly selected by a bizarre set of parties/brownie eating/skits/loud chanting (translation: sorority rush) were asking me WHAT I wanted to drink before our formal? To which I answered BOONE'S, because I didn't know any other kind of alcohol besides keg beer, and an entire keg seemed excessive, no? Then my friend Adler (who was an ENORMOUS drinker and penny loafer-wearer in high school) asked, how many bottles of Boone's did I need, exactly? Three or Four?
Totally, that should do it. This was me playing it cool.
FYI high school/college students: There is NO SUCH THING as cool. Please reference the movie "Can't Buy Me Love" and the African Ant-Eater Dance scene. There is "working really hard to fit in with the popular people", who are working really hard to fit in with the Kardashians, who are working really hard to fit in with real famous people/actors, who are working really hard to act like FICTIONAL CHARACTERS. And then there are rock stars, and they are ON DRUGS, or else they are so ecclectic that they wear 15 scarves or a dress made out of meat, and really it is only this kind of CONFIDENCE that has balls to wear metallic python leggings, and thereby inspire an entire decade (the 80s).
But for the sake of our little story, let's just say I played it REALLY cool, right up until I passed out in that bathroom. Because, I stand by the statement that the pre-party, unless timed appropriately, is the WORST idea of all time. Do you know when 6 shots of Dark Eyes vodka kicks in? When you're drinking that Natty Light and head-banging to "You Shook Me All Night Long" by ACDC. Liquor before beer, my ass.
But also. I was wearing a dress made out of a fake velvet/spandex combination (sounds unbelievable, I know), with an ENORMOUS leg slit--but when I went to the grocery store (yes, I said grocery store) to buy nylons, I ended up picking up a pair of thigh highs, which are undoubtedly the most irritating invention of. all. time. I was 18-years-old and 115 pounds and they STILL gave each of my legs a muffin top. Unacceptable.
And when they weren't doing that, they were sliding down my legs and revealing themselves in the slit of my stretchy-green-fake-velvet-spandex-dress, which I'm *sure* I was keeping appropriately covered, seeing as I was drinking Boone's wine and vodka shots and passing out in hotel lobby bathrooms. CLASSY.
I like to think this little exercise in humiliation, and t he 5,000 others like it that characterized the painful period of independence-still-funded-by-mom-and-dad (translation: college) made me the blogger I am today. Because if I wasn't laughing about it, I'd be living in a sad, insecure hole set to the soundtrack of Celine Dion's greatest hits. It often dawns on me, when I meet someone in adulthood who REALLY cares about what other people think, that they are probably missing an experience in which they locked themselves into a bathroom, passed out, and led an entire sorority to think they have drowned in a public toilet. Because you have to own that sh#! or it will kill you.
Because after waking up, downing my Whopper and adjusting my thigh-highs/gigantic leg slit, LIFE WENT ON, even with eyeliner streaked down my cheeks. And you know what? I rocked the "Alice Cooper" look too.